And I'm Still Reaching
by lesblams
Summary: He wished he could answer that question with the honest truth, but he couldn't ignore the facts.


_Sam didn't like seeing Blaine like this. Shoulders hunched, hands clenched together resting on top of his knees. He was biting his lip again, and staring up at Sam with that _look_ in his eyes. He was doubting himself again. Sam thought they had gotten over that._

"_Does this have anything to do with me?"_

_He wished. He wished he could answer that with a resounding "no" and have it be the complete truth. He wished he could take back the past week. He wished his dad wasn't such a dick. He wished his mom wasn't so scared, wasn't so disappointed._

_But he couldn't tell the truth. While his parents claimed pulling him out of Dalton was due to financial problems, he couldn't ignore the fact that two nights before he had told them (or tried to tell them) the truth about himself, that he liked boys and loved Blaine, and all he received in return was a "you're so young, you don't know what you really want," a "this is just a phase sweetie, you'll get over it," and a "I think not being around any girls is clouding your mind," from his mom and a tight jaw, gritted teeth, and deadly eyes from his father. Blaine already had a tendency to lay all fault on himself; Sam couldn't hurt him even more that way._

_So he sighed, sat down on the couch next to his (still secret) boyfriend, took his chin in his hand, and gave him a light kiss. "No, baby. We just…can't afford Dalton anymore." The quasi-lie feels bitter on his tongue._

_Blaine blinked rapidly, and Sam suspected he was fighting back tears. Blaine grabbed the back of his head and pulled him for another, deeper kiss before any tears could fall. Sam's hands immediately flew to his waist, gripping his back tightly as his tongue entered Blaine's mouth. This was the last time, and he was determined to make it good._

_Blaine pulled away suddenly, breathing rapidly as his leaned his forehead against Sam's. "You'll call, right? We're not going to lose each other?"_

_Sam paused. "O-of course, baby," he stuttered, hoping Blaine wouldn't notice. Blaine sighed in relief before taking Sam's hand and leading him to the bed._

"_One last time."_

* * *

><p>Being in a school after hours, all by oneself, is an…eerie experience, to say the least. The choir room was mysteriously empty – weren't they supposed to have glee club today? – and the silence was almost stifling. Blaine stared unseeingly at the book on his lap. He should enjoy the quiet; after all, silence is golden.<p>

"Let me guess."

He started involuntarily at the all-too-familiar voice. Apparently, no one had given Sam Evans the memo.

"_Harry, however, had never been less interested in Quidditch; he was rapidly becoming obsessed with Draco Malfoy,_" Sam quoted, fake British accent and all, taking long strides into the room. He ignored Blaine's small "Jesus, Sam," and the hand over his rapidly beating heart. Instead, he smiled, God, that same smile he always used to give Blaine, though there was now an emptiness in his eyes. Blaine chanced a look at the book on his lap; sure enough, the words were printed on the page right in front of him, even though he didn't remember turning to his favorite part in the book. Damn him.

He closed the book with a snap, shoving it down into his bag. "No. That - that part's in a different book."

"Uh-huh," Sam replied slowly. Of course he knew Blaine was bluffing. Blaine avoided his eyes as he slung his bag over his shoulder and stood.

"Did you need something?"

Sam actually had the gall to look surprised at his bitterness. "Um, I was just wondering if you knew we weren't having glee club today."

Blaine…actually hadn't known that. He knew his boyfriend had a doctor's appointment, but otherwise…

"Yeah, the girls decided to meet Kurt at the mall for a sale or something, and the guys, um, have football practice." Sam shoved his hands into his pockets awkwardly. Blaine tried not to feel bad about the fact that Sam couldn't play football this year because he had to babysit and deliver pizzas instead. He shouldn't feel bad for Sam at all.

"Oh. Well. Thanks." He passed Sam quickly, ignoring the way the other boy's eyes followed him as he left the room. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get away from –

"Hey, Blaine?"

He froze.

"Can…can we talk?"

Blaine whirled around. "Oh, so_ now_ we're talking? Gosh, it's been a while, don't you think? Nearly a year and a half, right? But now, all of a sudden because Prince Sam finally deems me worthy, we're going to _talk_," he snapped, finally unable to contain the rage he harbored for his ex-boyfriend. He didn't even notice storming across the room until suddenly Sam was inches in front of him.

"Blaine, it's not like –"

"So what do you want to talk about, Sam?" Blaine interrupted. He wasn't going to take any of Sam's bullshit. Sam opened his mouth to respond, but Blaine beat him to the punch. "The weather? What you had for lunch? Maybe the fact that you can't seem to keep a girlfriend [for the life of you]?" Sam winced, and Blaine smirked, knowing he had hit one of Sam's buttons. "Or what about your family?" Okay, maybe that one had gone a little too far.

"Or," he continued anyway, taking a step into Sam's personal space, "You finally want to man up and talk about us."

Sam gulped. "Yes," he said, and for the first time Blaine could remember Sam was the nervous one, caught under Blaine's bitterness. To his credit, he didn't back away from Blaine, and managed to keep strong eye contact. "I want – I want to talk about what happened."

Blaine scoffed. Unbelievable. "What happened? What _happened_ was that you made a promise and then broke it. You move two cities away and all of a sudden I never hear from you again. You go off and get yourself a fucking girlfriend, and I'm all alone, and even when I _do_ see you, you ignore me, and seriously, Sam, what the fuck?"

"I'm sorry," Sam mumbled, looking down at the floor. Blaine wasn't even sure he was supposed to hear it, but how could he continue with his tangent now?

"Excuse me?"

Sam raised his eyes to meet Blaine's. "I'm _sorry_," he repeated, louder. "I fucked up, and I know it, and I'm sorry, and if I could change it all I would. I just wanted to talk to you and let you know that, but it's obvious you're not in the mood to hear it, so…" He tore himself away from Blaine, skirting the piano as he exited the room without looking back. Blaine managed to catch a quiet 'so I'm just gonna go' through the anger clouding his mind.

No. No no no fucking _no. _This wasn't…he wasn't…Blaine nearly screamed from frustration as he followed Sam into the hall. With his long legs, Sam was already near the double doors, forcing Blaine to run in order to catch up. "No!" he yelled, causing Sam to stop and turn. "You don't get to just walk away! That was _bullshit_, Sam, and you know it, so try again."

"Are you going to shut up and listen?"

Blaine skidded to a halt. "Do _not_ treat me like the bad guy here, Sam, because I'm not."

"Well, I'm not either!" Sam shouted with exasperation. "That's what I've been trying to tell you! Yeah, sure, I was an idiot, but can you at least just hear me out?"

Blaine huffed, folding his arms across his chest. The fact that he didn't leave seemed to encourage Sam to continue.

"I came out to my parents."

Well. Blaine wasn't expecting _that._

"You-"

"Last year. When you and I were dating. They, um, they didn't take it too well." Sam sighed, leaning back against the lockers and scrubbing his hands over his face. "I just wanted to make them proud. I thought… I wanted to be the perfect son, okay?"

"And that didn't include me," Blaine added, leaning against the lockers opposite Sam. The other boy nodded, unable to look Blaine in the eye.

"So I lied to everyone. Never admitted going to Dalton, never admitted I'm bi. I became the quarterback, dated the head cheerleader, and even though my grades still sucked, my parents were so _proud_."

Sam paused for a moment. Blaine resisted the urge to walk over and hold him. Sam wasn't his boyfriend anymore; he shouldn't want these things.

"And then it all went to hell," Sam continued, throat sounding hoarse. He still focused his eyes on his shoes. "Football season ended, so I didn't really have anything to make me popular. Well, except Quinn, and I'm assuming you know how well that turned out." He did. Kurt was a good gossip, after all. "Then we lost the house. My parents stopped caring about the 'perfect' son and started loving me more as _their_ son, but it didn't matter. I wasn't happy, not then or all year, not really. By the time I realized it, I couldn't be happy, because all I really wanted was…" Sam trailed off, finally looking up at Blaine.

"Was?" he prompted. He could see Sam swallow, but an answer never came.

Blaine should have been angry, he knew, but even after all this time, all this hurt, he couldn't help but feel for the boy in front of him. The urge to give him a hug once again tempted him. Blaine even pushed himself off the wall to cross the hallway, but stopped when he realized just what he was doing.

"Okay," he broke the silence, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Why now? Why _wait_ until now? It's been, what, four, five months since you've had this 'revelation'? Why couldn't you have just talked to me then?"

"Because all I really wanted was you," Sam admitted quietly. It was no surprise to Blaine, and yet his heart still jumped in his chest. "But once I finally stopped being a dumbass, you had moved on. You had Kurt. And I didn't think I mattered anymore."

"Of course you mattered," Blaine objected. He hated it, but ever since Sam left, there was a cold _emptiness_ beside him, where Sam used to share his desk or drape his arm around his shoulder. Where Sam used to hold him while he slept. It was there, even after he met Kurt. It was even worse when Sam was right there in front of him, and he could do nothing. "You always mattered. You sucked, but…but I missed you."

Sam smiled at that. Blaine couldn't believe what he'd just admitted. "I missed you too. I've always missed you, please believe me. And I didn't tell you because you had Kurt, and _God_ it hurt to see you two together even though I knew I had no right or whatever. But I'm so, so sorry, and if I could take it back I would."

"I forgive you," Blaine smiled, ending Sam's enthusiastic rambling. The other boy was much closer now that Blaine let him in, though his eyes were still pleading and had started to fill with tears. "I believe you." A tear slipped down Sam's cheek as he smiled even wider. God, the boy was beautiful when he was happy.

Blaine tentatively reached forward, pushing his arms under Sam's as they'd done a million times before. Sam was quick to respond to the embrace, pulling Blaine to him tightly. His fingers wove through Blaine's hair (finally ungelled, now that he was at McKinley), and Blaine could feel him shaking in his arms.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. I'm so sorry," Sam whispered. Blaine had to chuckle a little at his eagerness. "I still love you."

Blaine's breath caught in his throat. Did he just…? "Sam, you – you know I have Kurt, and-"

Sam nodded quickly, the side of his head brushing against Blaine's. "Yeah, I know," he said, pulling back and scrubbing his hand over his face to wipe away the tears. "I just…I figured you should know. I mean, I don't expect you to love me back or anything, not after the crap I pulled."

His emotions had to be running high after this reunion with Sam. That, or old memories, _good_ memories, for once, were resurfacing too much, too fast. Or maybe, just maybe, he had only been so angry because he still cared. He always cared, and he couldn't stop himself from blurting out, "But that's the problem – I still do."

"Yeah?" He could still read Sam like a book, and he knew every single emotion that flickered across Sam's face. Hope. Anticipation. And a flicker of the same resignation that suddenly sunk Blaine down from his high.

"Yeah, but – but _shit, _Sam," Blaine stepped away from Sam and ran his hands through his hair, the other boy's presence too overwhelming. "Shit, we figure all of this out, but we can't…we can't _do_ anything."

"But what if we could?" Sam followed Blaine earnestly. "I won't be stupid this time, I swear! We can be together, and – "

"How can I trust you?"

"I'll come out, I'll tell everyone in glee club – "

"I'm not leaving Kurt."

Sam stopped.

"I love him, too, Sam." A voice in the back of his head whispered, _'Not as much as you love Sammy,' _but he silenced it quickly.

"Well." Sam bit his lip, once again at a loss.

Blaine stepped forward, taking Sam's hand in his own. He could at least let himself, and Sam, dream. "Someday, 'kay? There's no rush."

Sam smiled. "We can still be friends, right? Do it right this time?" Blaine laughed and nodded. "And…and I'll still come out, I promise. Tomorrow, even. It's a start."

"You know you don't have to."

"I want to," Sam countered, shrugging. "It's about time, don't you think?"

"If you say so." Blaine leaned in, pulling Sam into another hug. Sam wasted no time in wrapping his long arms around Blaine's torso and squeezing him tight.

"I love you, Blaine."

Blaine chuckled. "I love you too, Sammy." He gripped Sam tightly for a moment, then pulled away. "Come on, we better get out of here."

They walked to the parking lot together, their hands kept brushing together like they used to before they began dating. Blaine felt the same urge to intertwine his fingers with Sam's. He looked up at the other boy and smiled. He finally felt happy with Sam. Everything would be okay. And hopefully, this wasn't a dream.

They parted ways before Blaine noticed the truck waiting to pick Sam up.

* * *

><p>"Thank you, Rachel," Mr. Schuester announced as Rachel resumed her seat in the choir room. "It appears you <em>can<em> put a Broadway-style spin on anything, if you try hard enough." He shook his head slightly and blinked hard, attempting to dismiss the image. Rachel remained oblivious, sitting proudly in her chair and taking Finn's hand into hers.

"Okay. Anyone else have a solo they want to sing for us today?" Mr. Schuester scanned the room, but received no raised hands. "Anyone?"

Sam fidgeted in his chair. He knew this was his best opportunity to get up and say what he needed to say, but he didn't want to. He wished he didn't have to. If he turned around, he expected he would see Blaine's eyes boring into him.

He had promised.

"Okay, then I guess that's it for today. I'll see you all-"

"Mr. Schuester?" Sam interrupted quickly, finding his nerve before his chance was gone. "I, um, I don't have a song, but I kind of need to say something."

Mr. Schue looked surprised, but gestured for Sam to continue. He slowly rose from his seat and crossed to the center of the room, shoving his hands in his pockets. A quick look around the room told him his peers were slightly confused, maybe a little bit worried, but still content in their spots. He wondered if this would make a difference at all.

The one exception was Blaine, who leaned forward in anticipation. Sam could see the tiniest quirk of a smile on his lips.

_Just say it Sam. This is your only chance. They need to know._

"I'm moving."

He heard gasps from the girls, chairs squeaking as the boys sat straight in attention. He couldn't bear to look at Blaine.

"Yeah, um, we're gonna go live in Tennessee on my grandparents' ranch. We really didn't want to move in the middle of the school year, but we're kind of grasping for straws, so…" Sam sighed, willing his sinking heart to stop weighing down his lungs.

"So I want to thank you guys. For being my family. For helping me through all of this crap the best you could, and for not thinking of me any differently. I really love you guys." He sniffed and realized that he was once again on the verge of tears. He blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back.

Mike was the first to stand, walking down the large riser steps in long strides and embracing Sam in a fierce hug. Puck and Artie were quick to follow, Puck guiding Artie's chair over to their friend. One by one each Glee member said their personal goodbyes to Sam, each girl whispering a, "We love you and we'll miss you," and each boy forsaking their bro-hugs for something genuine.

Except Blaine, who stayed put in his chair on the back row. Sam still didn't dare look at him, for fear of a breakdown.

"I should probably get going," Sam said once he had hugged every other member of New Directions. "We're leaving right after school, so I need to get my things."

He left before he could get caught up again, hearing various collective goodbyes echo behind him. As he turned the corner of the hallway, he drank in the eerie silence that surrounded him. For once, he could actually hear the dial turning on his locker, instead of his senses being invaded by inane chatter and the slamming of locker doors.

"Sammy?"

Blaine's voice sounded so small. It reminded Sam of when they first met, the tiny, shy boy who quickly came into his own at Dalton.

"Hey." He turned around, finally taking in Blaine's misery, the frown on his lips, the crushed look in his eyes.

Blaine bit his lip, an old habit he had apparently never broken. "So you're leaving."

Sam didn't respond. Blaine moved a little closer, taking in a shuddering breath.

"Does this have anything to do with me?"

He wished. He honestly wished that they had suddenly just run out of money and had to steal off into the night before they were living on the streets. But he couldn't ignore how tense his father was on the ride home from school, how his hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. He couldn't ignore the hushed, harsh whispers exchanged between his parents when they thought the kids were paying attention. He couldn't ignore how his father glowered as his mother announced their move over dinner. His father had seen Blaine at the school and Sam knew it, and now he was trying to get Sam as far away from his as possible in yet another effort to "fix" everything.

He couldn't lie this time. He wouldn't.

"I'm so sorry, baby. So, so sorry." Blaine didn't even wait for him to finish, squeezing his eyes shut even though a few tears escaped. Sam had never felt like he let anyone down more, even though he knew it wasn't his fault.

He reached out to Blaine, running his hand through the other boy's hair and kissing him on the forehead. Blaine shook underneath his touch. He knew that if he gave himself any other freedom, if he held Blaine in his arms or whispered how much he loved him, that he would never leave. So he settled for the small kiss and walked out the double doors, trying his damndest not to look back.

Blaine sank to the ground behind him, sobs wracking his body. Why had he ever allowed himself to dream?


End file.
